


Only Faramir

by annabeth



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 08:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12229659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/annabeth
Summary: Boromir is going to Rivendell for the council about the One Ring, and Faramir has misgivings. They say farewell to each other for the final time.





	Only Faramir

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to my Livejournal in July of 2004. I've been watching the movies again, and I liked this fic (even if it does some head hopping that I wish I could fix now) so I'm throwing it up on here.

'It's only a little while till dawn,' Faramir spoke quietly. Boromir adjusted his mail, the knife in his belt. Somewhere, it felt as if a great breath of air had been exhaled, and tension clung to their skin like rainwater. Faramir glanced sidewise at his brother. Boromir was gazing ahead, as far as he could see, but he felt Faramir's eyes on him, and he met them.

'Only a little while till I have to leave, you mean. Father has decreed it, and it is the way of things that what he proclaims shall be. I am sorry.'

'I know. But it is not your fault,' Faramir said so softly it was an effort for Boromir to make out the words.

'I shall miss you, little brother.'

'Nothing will be the same.' Faramir touched Boromir's cheek, turned his face toward him. 'I know what Father has instructed you to do. But you must not be taken by the Ring.'

Boromir wrenched away from his brother, face averted so that Faramir could not see the green fire in his eyes. 'I will not be. It is an errand, nothing more. The Ring will fortify Gondor and make it strong, stronger than Sauron can defeat!' His tone was victorious, full of pride and confidence. But Faramir shivered, even though the air that swirled around them was cool, not cold. The words frightened him; he knew Boromir's heart as well as his own, and he knew that Boromir's going would lead into disaster.

'Many good things will perish in this dark age,' Faramir stated. 'I fear that your good sense will be one of them.' He held his eyes earnestly on Boromir's broad back, his brother still turned away from him. 'Please, brother, do not go. Let me. I fear for you.'

At last Boromir faced him. 'I know you do. I wish I could alleviate those fears, or ease them somewhat at least. But you know Father as well as I. He will have both of our lives forfeit if I fail him, especially if I failed him for you.'

'I remember dewlit mornings, Boromir, and the sound of your horn echoing through these buildings and the outlying hills. I remember our mother, even if you think I do not. And I can see behind your eyes, brother, that perhaps you do not intend to return. Would you take the ring for yourself?'

'No, Faramir. I take it for Gondor, if it can be found. But I have heard the heir of Isildur is at Imladris, and that there, too, rests the One Ring for this time. I shall miss you.' And he leaned forward, and cupped his younger brother's face in his calloused hands. Their eyes were varied colours of blue and green, perfect complements, and their hair was a mixture of colours of sand, earth, and sunlight, and where the strands touched it was impossible to tell which tendrils belonged to whom. The fine bones of Faramir's face were more slender and refined than Boromir's stronger features, and he could read the doubt in those clear eyes, so much like his own. He could see his desire reflected back at him, and deep within his breast he felt fear stir. He stroked Faramir's cheekbone with his thumb, and tried hard to regulate his breathing. His brother would know, though; he could always tell. And so it was no surprise when softly again Faramir spoke.

'I will miss you also. You have always been my greatest treasure, and I would do anything to protect you, and well you know it. Father has always held that I am useless, and Mother is long lost to us. We have had no one, you and I, but each other; I read your eyes; brother! Do not heed the call of the Ring!'

'I will heed only my own call, and my own horn shall guide me. You cannot protect me any longer -- and you know it. The time is at hand!' Boromir swept a hand toward the heavens, where dawn was beginning to leak into the darkness. And then he looked down in Faramir's eyes again, and read the despair. It was a perfect echo of his own, and there was no hesitation when he lowered his head and Faramir's lips met his. Many days later, on the long road to Rivendell, and even later, as the arrows pierced his skin, he could still feel those lips, rough and warm, melding with his. His fingertips stroked Faramir's closed eyelids, brushing the beautiful gold lashes. There would be nothing more, no time, and he regretted both his haste to depart and his procrastination. The slender but powerfully strong body pressed against his was as familiar as his own -- and Faramir strained to be as close as he could be, and Boromir knew deep within his heart this would be their final times together. For so long they had relied upon each other, a wall of Gondor muscle trying to resist the power that was their Father, but he was always trying to draw them apart -- he loved Boromir best and he always had. Yet Faramir had never strayed from his brother's side, not even from jealousy. The kiss was long, and should have been endless, but Faramir broke it and whispered.

'Nothing is forever. Oh, my brother. Do not leave on this fool's errand. Please, allow me to take this burden for you!' He pressed his cheek hard against Boromir's, and his palm covered the rapid pound of his heartbeat. They held together for as long as they dared, and then at last Faramir looked up. He traced Boromir's bottom lip with a finger, then greeted his lips in farewell.

'Hold me ever like this, little brother, even when I am gone,' Boromir requested, and it was just that, no order for his younger, beautiful brother. The skin was stretched translucent over Faramir's cheekbones, and weariness and worry was etched into his eyes. The coming dawn bronzed the skin, highlighted the lack-of-sleep circles, and threw into sharp relief the frailty and weakness that dwelt in his face at the sight of his brother, leaving to die. Faramir knew he would not return. He closed his eyes, stepped away from the flesh, the bone, the breath that was as dear to him as if it were his own life. He would always be breathing too hard, as long as Boromir was away. Life would be hard to reach, to claim, when Boromir departed the world, and the strange foreboding twisted his heart, and he knew this was the last he'd look upon his brother. The darkness of Mordor was spreading and slowly darkening Boromir's complexion. The air was hushed between them, and then Boromir made a final sacrifice.

'I ought to set out this moment, but I cannot, not yet. Come here, brother, I will own you one final time, I will fuse us forever, and when I return no more, still I will breathe in your chest, and your diaphragm, your lungs, your belly will remember me!' And he jerked the mail over his head, and surrounded his brother with his body and his scent and his thoughts and his very essence, and Faramir was saturated with him. Their bodies complemented each other, and the familiarity that made them siblings also made them lovers, even though they had not the time. The last kisses were hurried and imprecise, Boromir's tongue was rough, and his fingers and hands swept across Faramir's shoulders and down his back. Their hair fell together, and mingled and no one -- not even the sunlight nor eyes of an Elf -- would have been able to discern between them. Faramir twisted away at last, and one hand strayed and fell against Boromir's groin. He flattened his palm against his brother's erection and closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of it in his hand, even through Boromir's garb. His own throbbed in reaction and it was a sensation he would recall until the end of his days, and it was the first thing he felt when Boromir was pierced with the arrows, even many miles from his home and his love. His cock throbbed painfully against his belly when Boromir was struck, and it was not for pleasure, but for sorrow. For all that was lost.

'Boromir, you must depart now. If you are to leave before Father takes a notice that you are late.'

'I know. Fare thee well, and remember always.' In response, Faramir touched his own lips with a fingertip, signifying that he could not forget. They separated at last, and the dawn felt cold. Aloneness settled over Faramir like a blanket.

He was asleep when Boromir was at first struck. Faramir was resting amidst the brush, on his own errand. He woke with the thought that he must have had an erotic dream, until he processed the fact that his erection was painful, not pleasant. And then Boromir was hit again, and the arrow thrust into his body so powerfully that Faramir felt it and the agony coursed through him, rushed into his brain in a swarm of sensation like bees. And still Boromir struggled. He gained his feet, he fought, but the arrows leeched his blood and his strength, and yet he mustered all he had, sheer force of will --

And Faramir felt it, and knew the valiant fight would be one his brother lost, and then the third arrow drove deeply into his body, and Boromir toppled to his knees, never to get up again. Faramir wept within, but nothing marred his features on the outside. No one would ever know how much the pain touched him, and how it would never fully leave. Boromir's horn rang inside his head. His hands desperately went to his mouth, and everything that he was was torn from him as Boromir perished.

Never again was he Faramir, Boromir's staunchest ally, his brother, his friend, briefly and incompletely his lover. He was only Faramir, alone.

end.


End file.
